


catharsis

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, i wrote this for the know your enemy zine, please check it out!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: the end of the world wasn't as sweet as he imagined.





	catharsis

His orchestrated apocalypse has gone to plan. The symphony that spells humanity’s end swells as death chokes the air. The harmonization of screams of those vile, selfish humans reverberate in his ears as the risen drag them to hell. The view he has of it all is the best seat in the house, on top of his mighty throne that rises above the ash.

 

It’s perfect. It’s all he’s imagined. 

 

_ Then why, _ Grima thinks to himself,  _ does satisfaction not come to him? _

 

Dull eyes scan the horizon as smoke continues to blacken the sky. He drapes himself over the throne, his mind seeking answers that may not exist. 

 

Perhaps it’s boredom. With no one left to oppose him, there’s no one to strike down. No humans left to peel the flesh off and enjoy. 

 

Oh, does a part of him does long he kept that exalt alive longer. Drinking in his despair was the most fun he’s had. How he enjoyed his pained gasps… playing with him more would quell his boredom. And he’s sure he would’ve tasted delicious - exalted blood would be the finest delicacy. 

 

He snorts, dismissing that thought of his mind. No need to think about such things. The exalt is dead, as well as his little army. 

 

He’s seen to the deaths of Naga and her little voice as well. Gone, gone, gone. Anyone that’s dared oppose him doesn’t draw breath any longer.

 

To the victor go the spoils, the phrase goes. 

 

_ Then why, _ his mind goes once more,  _ do you feel so empty? _

 

Mount Prism is leveled. Ylisstol’s mighty castle is nothing but rubble. Humanity doesn’t have that much longer to live. 

 

It’s so perfect, it makes him want to vomit. 

 

Where did it all go wrong? Destroying the world was the most fun he’s had in years. It nearly brought him the satisfaction he had felt when murdering Forneus and let his corpse rot in Thabes.

 

What was it? Is he bored? Is he dissatisfied with ending it all so quickly? No, no. If left alive, the humans would’ve come for him. Embed Falchion into his gut and spit on his corpse. Celebrate on his grave, reveling in their victory, filling the air with cheers of how good it is that the Fell Dragon cried out in pain as his breath left his body.

 

Disgusting, greedy, self-absorbed humans that would flaunt their good deeds, seeking praise from Naga. They’d return to their normal ways shortly after. Who would need the words of the gods if the humans would hold themselves in high enough regards? 

 

It’s good they’re dead. It’s what Grima decides to think. He hopes anger will overtake the dissatisfaction, the empty feeling that weighs down his body, binding him to the throne.

 

He isn’t sure what to direct the anger at. The humans seem an obvious choice. It’s their fault. Naga seems an obvious choice as well. It’s also her fault. Her damned blade and her damned scions hell-bent on purging “evils” from the world.

 

If only she’d be aware of the true nature of the humans she coveted so. To what would she think of the man who birthed him in that filthy study? That he created an “abomination” that tore her precious worlds to shreds?

 

He fidgets in the throne once more. Answers refuse to come.  

 

Grima stares at the dark horizon, wondering when the feeling of victory will grace him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out the zine's Twitter! https://twitter.com/InvincibleZine


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